I am overcoming my fears through exposure
Before I write this post I feel the need to explain that most of the things I have or have had issues with didn't happen over night. In fact I didn't even notice the changes until what I thought to be too late. I also want to say that when I talk about the bad things I've been through, I'm not complaining. I'm grateful for my life and my experiences. The point of this is to explain how some of the things I've been through have affected me, and how I'm getting past them. I'm not by any means trying to compare my life to anyone else.
In my previous post I wrote about growing up with undiagnosed Bipolar II disorder. Because I was undiagnosed I grew up with what I thought to be your average ups and downs, outbursts, and rare 'on top of the world' hyperactivity. The only thing I was afraid of was myself - when my next outburst would be. I was very active. I played church volleyball and basketball, I sang in choirs and had a lot of friends, and I wasn't afraid of getting dirty. Which brings me to what this post is about.
When I was 20 I got sick. My immune system crashed. My migraines grew worse. I developed deep bone and joint pain all over my body. I developed horrible stomach pains. A couple months later I had to move back home so my mom and sister - who was 13 at the time - could nurse me back to health. I was on bed rest for about 8 or 9 months. If ever anyone around me had a cold or the flu or anything contagious I caught it.
Very gradually, over a period of about 3 years, I was able to start functioning again. The pain and fatigue were still there, but they weren't as debilitating.
But also very gradually over those 3 years I started avoiding germs. More and more germs. Germs that I knew would make me feel worse again and I was SO SICK AND TIRED OF FEELING SICK AND TIRED.
So I started washing my hands more. About fifty or sixty times a day, with hot water. Not scalding, just really hot. I started avoiding touching doorknobs when I was outside the house, and just the thought of someone touching me with their feet...*deep breath*. It started out as just a precautionary measure, but it grew and grew. The more I avoided these invisible fiends the scarier they were to me, until flesh-eating bacteria was on every surface. I mean I knew there wasn't flesh eating bacteria, but the fight-or-flight response my body had told me differently.
So the world grew bigger and scarier and I became smaller and weaker.
Okay, here's where I remind you this didn't happen over night...
About two years ago I opened up a brand new jar of Clorox disinfecting wipes to clean off my desk and dresser. Then I moved on to the doorknobs. Then I noticed all the dust on the floor molding. Then suddenly it was four in the morning and I had used up the last wipe scrubbing off every hard surface in my bedroom, bathroom, and hallway, including the walls. As I was throwing the last wipe away 'Logical Lindsay' pushed her way past 'Manic Lindsay' and I realized what I just did. My problem was worse than I thought.
I am still suffering from Obsessive Compulsive Disorder with germs. I haven't cleaned off any walls since that night, though that's not to say I haven't been tempted. I always wear long sleeved shirts, stretchy shirts or shirts with tails that I can use to open doors. Every time I go out to a restaurant I wash my hands after touching the menu. Or the seat. Or the table. I carry individually wrapped wet wipes wherever I go. I keep lotion with me at all times because my hands get so dry from washing them that they crack.
When I'm in a public restroom and I'm done washing my hands I avoid touching the knobs to turn the water off at all costs. I'll go for the paper towels first and use that to turn the water off. If part of my hand - or my arm - bumps the faucet or the knob, or the thing on the paper towel dispenser that makes the towels come out, I start the whole process over again. Motion sensing technology has been a huge relief, but also an enabler.
My bathroom routine is not unlike Leonardo DiCaprio's portrayal of Howard Hughes in The Aviator.
I've never cut my hands before, and I've never run out of towels or been without a sleeve or something else to use to protect my hand from the door handle. I think if I had no other option, a year or two ago I would have waited for someone to enter the bathroom, then caught the door with my foot. Or I would have just used the door and tried to find another bathroom with paper towels to wash my hands. No matter how OCD I am, I'm also extremely impatient.
I'm a little less neurotic now, but not by much. The past six months or so I have made a serious effort to put thoughts of germs out of my mind. When I go to the store or a doctor's appointment and have to touch a door I tell myself "It's okay, you'll be home in a little while. You can wash your hands then". After a while it was just something I already knew and didn't need to say. So I guess that's good because I stopped freaking out looking for disinfectant. It may not seem like much to someone who hasn't dealt with an anxiety disorder, but in order for me to move forward I have to acknowledge the accomplishments, no matter how small.
But there are setbacks. Of course there are setbacks! With mood disorders, or anxiety disorders, or I guess anyone in general, lack of sleep and overworking yourself can exacerbate whatever problems you deal with. My school load has been pretty hectic these past few weeks, and I haven't been sleeping because I'm so tense. I'm still depressed like I mentioned in my last post. I'm not eating enough, or as well as I should. Because of all these factors - most of which I can and should adjust myself - my moods are on edge, my Agoraphobia (I'll talk about that another time) is kicking in and most of all my Obsessive Compulsive Disorder has reared it's ugly head.
I was doing so well! Okay, still not touching railings or doors at school. Have you any idea how many thousands of hands touch those every day? But I guess I can't progress if I'm not being challenged.
The last two weeks I've entered one of my classes to find the table in front of my chair COVERED in smudges. Why does this have to happen now when I'm so on edge? Why are people so disgusting?
After I typed the last bit about people being disgusting I immediately heard my moms voice in my head: "People are doing the best they can. If not, they'd be doing better." That usually gets me to stop thinking negative things about people. I'm sure the person before me doesn't know he's being messy, or the effect it's having on me.
Either way, I've immediately whipped out my wet wipes and scrubbed down the table. I know my teacher understands even though he seems really amused, and so are the other two at my table. I try to laugh it off. Even though those people are kind and I'm sure aren't judging me negatively it's still embarrassing. My ideal healthy self would be okay with some chocolate smudges (I so hope it was chocolate), or spilled soda, or boogers (GAH!)...or...or...flesh-eating bacteria...kidding kidding!
So here is where I finally get to the good stuff! Because I refuse to continue being driven by this fear. I am so tired of having the thought of the last thing I touched running over and over in my mind while I'm trying to have a conversation with someone, focusing instead on keeping my hand in a fist in my lap so I don't touch anything else.
The past couple days I have made a conscious effort to touch as many door handles as I can. After I do I tell myself "it's no big deal" and various other confidence inducing phrases. Sometimes out loud if I need to. I also refuse - I repeat REFUSE - to wash my hands or use wet wipes after touching doorknobs and dirty tables. I touch all my pens and don't avoid my face.
I'm playing it off as an experiment. You see I finally got to the point about six months ago where I feel physically healthy again. Woohoo! After almost five years I no longer need pain medication. I got off of it as soon as I felt I could. So the experiment I am conducting is to see if I get ill from all these 'horrible germs' floating around. I went to that class again SO ready for that messy table. As soon as I saw it I was filled with dread. It was as if he spilled vanilla ice cream and did some finger painting. I left my wet wipes in my backpack and paid as much attention to the lecture as possible, which wasn't too difficult because I love that class.
So to sum up a bit, because I avoided germs I grew afraid of them. Further avoidance led to dread, which grew into phobia. It's all about baby steps, and like I said before: I can't progress if I'm not being challenged. The way I am overcoming this fear is through exposure.
So I guess in a way I'm grateful for the chocolate smudging, soda spilling, booger picking, ice cream artist. Wow. That's something I never thought I'd say.
Just knowing a fear is irrational does not help. I've known it was irrational for a long time. In my case - as in most - it's the body's naturally developed response and has nothing to do with the cognitive process, though the cognitive process may be how I got there and will definitely help in pulling me out. If you are trying to support a loved one on their journey then thank you so much! Do just that. Be supportive. Don't pressure them, or tell them when to try again, because unless they're willing nothing is going to change. Tell them they're strong. Tell them you believe in them, and that they aren't stupid or worthless for having whatever problem it is they have. Let them know that you'll catch them if they fall, and if they do fall, tell them you know they'll do even better next time, whenever they're ready.
I have a wonderful support system, and I wouldn't be where I am without them.
Thank you for reading! Comments are always welcome.
